


Closin' My Eyes And You Chase My Thoughts Away

by SereneCalamity



Series: Hello From The Other Side [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad use of Wanda's powers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Sexual Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 20:12:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SereneCalamity/pseuds/SereneCalamity
Summary: Steve and Bucky are still finding their pace in the new world, and with one another, and then Steve has a bad mission.





	Closin' My Eyes And You Chase My Thoughts Away

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write something Post Winter Soldier for a while now and I've finally gotten around to it! I've really jumped on board this Stucky train recently. Haha. And don't worry, my other series will be updated soon, I've got about half of it done already. And if you haven't read it already, go check it out! This isn't edited yet, I'll get there!  
> Disclaimer: I do not own these beautiful boys, or the title, which comes from the song Goodbye To You by Michelle Branch.

His place must be bugged.

And he knew who had bugged it.

Steve Rogers scrubbed a hand over his face and looked over to where Sam Wilson was standing opposite him with a raised eyebrow and an expectant expression on his face. Steve really didn't know what to say. On one hand, he didn't want to lie to Sam, but on the other hand, he couldn't exactly tell him the truth.

"Uh...I don't really want to talk about it," Steve muttered.

"Right," Sam drawled, eyebrow still arched, eyes still flicking between the hickey on Steve's neck and and Steve's face. Steve stubbornly didn't say anything, and after a few minutes, Sam shrugged. "Alright, then, man. I'll just grab those clothes and head out." Steve just dipped his head in a nod before going down the hallway to his laundry room, where he had some of Sam's spare clothes washed, dried and folded. Both men had come back to Steve had come back here yesterday before going to the Stark Tower, and Sam had changed into a spare set of clothes and left his sweaty ones in Steve's washing basket.

"Here you go," Steve said as he handed them back.

"Thanks for getting them washed, Cap," Sam said, his voice still holding a slight lilt of disbelief. "I'll see you soon." They had plans to go on for a run on Thursday, in two days time, but they could very well be called in by Nick Fury or Maria Hill sooner than that. Steve gave his friend a small smile as he saw him out, but that dropped as soon as he closed the door and his hand went to his neck, covering the place where the love bite was.

At least it wasn't Natasha Romanova.

She would have pressed it.

Steve pursed his lips together and leaned his head against the closed door, trying to take in a couple of calming breaths. He squeezed his neck once before going back over to the to weird, shattered glass clock on his wall that Clint Barton had brought him as a house warming gift when he had moved back from DC to Brooklyn. The hickey was already a little more faded than it had been ten minutes ago when he had found it, just marginally, and it would be gone within a few hours.

James Buchanan...Bucky...The  _Winter Soldier_...He knew Steve's schedule as best as Steve knew.

Obviously he knew that Steve would sometimes get called away abruptly for unknown lengths of time, but that wasn't always, sometimes weeks could go by and Steve could have an actual steady routine. That meant runs with Sam on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, training at Stark Tower with other Avengers and SHIELD operatives Monday through to Wednesday and then back at Stark Tower on Sunday nights for movie night. He volunteered with Sam at the VA in the weekends, went to a community college class for art classes on Thursdays—always sitting at the back with his head down and a hat pulled low—took Clint's dog for a walk on Friday mornings because Clint was always hungover after Thursday night of drinking, a tradition he and Natasha had, and would do his grocery shopping. Sometimes things changed, but that was the general idea.

Bucky didn't often come the night before he went for a run. In fact, he hardly ever did. Sometimes he would come the night before the days that he  _usually_  went for a run, but he had just come back from a mission and so he didn't go, but not on a normal night before.

He had come by last night, though.

And it had been a normal Monday night, leading into a normal Tuesday. He'd gone for his run with Sam in the morning, come back to his place and he and Sam had taken turns showering there and ate breakfast together before going to the Tower together. He had trained, eaten dinner with Natasha, Sam and Tony Stark and then come back. Then Bucky had come over, sometime in the early hours of the morning, as per usual.

It wasn't until after he had come back from his run with Sam and taken off his hoodie and Sam had looked at him with eyes nearly popping out of his head that Steve noticed he had a hickey.

Bucky had left him with a few bites before, that wasn't particularly unusual, but the one that he left this morning was dark and big and in a  _very_  obvious place.

It was a miracle that Sam hadn't noticed it earlier.

And Steve knew why.

Yesterday, over breakfast, Sam had casually mentioned that there was this new volunteer at the library. Steve remembered humming in response as he ate the scrambled eggs that Sam had whipped up while he was in the shower, but not paying too much attention. Not until Sam had continued. Sam said that her name was Tatiana and she had been a nurse in Iraq for the past eight years, and she had come back about a year ago. Apparently she was adjusting well back into civilian life and she was throwing herself into her art.

Art.

As soon as Steve had heard that, his shoulders had tensed and he had lifted his eyes from the morning paper and looked over at Sam, who was carefully looking over at him, and Steve knew exactly was Sam was trying to get at.

Moving on, making new friends, dating...

Sam had seen the expression on Steve's face as soon as he had looked up, had read it straight away, and had redirected the conversation, which Steve had appreciated. Sam was just trying to be helpful, and in a lot more gentle way than Natasha and Tony were being. It had been over a year since HYDRA and the Triskelion and finding out Bucky was alive, and as far as anyone knew, there were no new leads when it came to Bucky, and they were trying to help him to move forward.

They didn't know that Bucky had come to his apartment three months ago.

Bucky must have heard Sam.

That was why he had come by.

That was why he had come on a morning he didn't usually.

That was why he had left a mark, darker than he usually would,  _higher_  than he usually would, more obvious than he usually would.

Steve wasn't sure what annoyed him more; the fact that Bucky had his place bugged and was listening in on conversations that he was having with his closest friends, or the fact that Bucky knew Steve's friends could see he needed something more and he was just giving him the bare minimum.

And then that made Steve mad at himself.

Because Bucky was giving him as much as he could.

Bucky would never  _hurt_  him.

The only thing that stopped Steve from putting his fist through the wall was the fact his phone started ringing, that specific tone that was set for when JARVIS was contacting all of them to come in for a mission. He took in a deep breath before leaving.

* * *

It was three days before Steve got back to his apartment. It had been a rough few days and nights, and it hadn't been successful.

It hadn't been successful at  _all_.

They had gone to this Eastern European country called Sokovia that Steve had never heard of to a raid a HYDRA facility. A lot of information that had been found buried in the SHIELD servers when they had exposed it's involvement with HYDRA helped them find other bases and facilities, although like they had always set, ' _if a head is cut off, two more shall take it's place_ '. Some days it felt as though they were never going to be able to wipe HYDRA off the face off this planet, but after what they had done to Bucky, Steve was never going to stop trying.

There had been two kids that they had found at the facility, that they had not at all been prepared for.

Maybe they weren't kids, but they had looked young. One had silvery coloured hair and the other had long reddish brown hair with red whisps all around her. The boy was fast and the girl...She did something to all of them and it fucked them up.

One minute, Steve was riding on his bike through the snow, circling around to the back of the facility since Tony had said that he had taken out the security cameras so it was just up to Steve to take out whatever guards were there. The next minute, Steve was seeing the flash of the silvery haired boy as he ran past, and then the girl was there, standing in front of him, eyes glowing red and fingers twisting in front of her. Steve had been about to say something, about to ask them if they had been forced, if they needed help, if they wanted to come with them, and then he was thrown back to the 1940s.

There was Bucky with short hair, and a quick smile and lively eyes. It was flashes before the war in their old apartment and then during the war in their tiny, shared tent and then...In a dance hall. Together. Hand in hand. In a way that Steve had always longed for but would never have been able to have back in their time.

And then Bucky had been falling from the training, and Steve was shouting and stretching out his hand out after him, just not close enough, and Bucky had kept on falling, down into the icy trench below.

It had been so  _real_ , so  _present_.

It had been so  _vivid_ , as though he was  _right back there_.

Steve didn't realize that he had been lost in his head, crumpled in the snow beside his crashed motorbike until back up came in, waking up the fallen Avengers and helping them back to the quinjets. Bruce was flying since he was the only one that hadn't gone out—which had been a blessing, and Sam was in the co-pilot seat because he had been holding the rear and hadn't been hit. Tony was sitting completely still other than his twitching fingers, his eyes wide open without saying anything, opposite Steve. Clint was at the back of the quinjet, pacing back and forth, fingers flexing at their sides. Natasha was sitting next to Steve—not touching, but close—and she was flicking a knife in her hand, getting higher and higher, muttering to herself, and every now and then Steve heard the words ' _Red Room_ '.

They weren't talking, which was good, because they were all a mess.

They got back close to midnight, were checked out methodically by medical, went through a quiet debriefing that even Maria didn't grill them on, and then instead of going home, all of them stayed at the Tower. In separate rooms, Tony going up to be with Pepper Potts, but they stayed together in the tower, and then all had breakfast in one of the kitchens upstairs in a section that was reserved for the Avengers. Maria then recalled them for another debriefing, which was a bit more comprehensive, although none of them went into details on what they had seen.

Now it was just after one in the afternoon and Steve was back in his apartment. Sam had asked if he had wanted to go out for a beer, but he had turned him down. Natasha had asked for a ride back to her place, even though she had at least two bikes in the parking level under the Tower, but Steve thought she just wanted some company for longer, which was okay, because he didn't mind taking longer home.

But now he home and he felt...Strange. He hadn't felt this strange in a while.

Not out of body, not too big for his skin...He had always hard time explaining it, even with Sam helping him through things. It was anxiety and depression and loneliness, that's what it all came down, it was the symptoms of that. It started with a dip in his stomach, and weird tingles in his toes and fingertips, and it graduated to other things. Lying in bed and not leaving until he got called in for a mission. Offering to go on a solo mission and pushing himself until his body was screaming at him to stop. Sitting underneath his shower head with his body shaking and chewing down on his bottom lip.

It had been a while.

There had been a lot of at the beginning, but after the Avengers forming in New York, he had been able to heal a little bit even if he hadn't addressed them. He had managed to fight it down, but then after finding Bucky again it had flared back up. Looking for Bucky helped to push it back down, but...Sam told him he needed to probably address his problems, talk through them with someone qualified. Which Steve knew was right, but he just hadn't gotten around to.

And was maybe putting off a little.

Steve took in a deep breath as he walked into his apartment, into his living room and looked out the windows of the lounge. He could still go to that art class at the community college, he'd miss the first half hour, but it went for nearly two, so he would still be there for a good chunk.

He didn't though.

"Shit," Steve hissed through his teeth as he curled his fingers into his palm, trying to ground himself. He closed his eyes for a few minutes and his heart beat calmed down before he opened his eyes again. Steve moved around his apartment, cleaning up a little and then sitting down on his couch with an art pad on his lap and a pencil in his hand.

It was late in the evening and his hand was cramping just a little by the time he started slowing down. As soon as he stopped, his hand recovered, but the break gave him a chance to look at what he had drawn.

Bucky.

He hadn't drawn Bucky in a long time.

_On purpose._

This was Bucky back in the '40s, the corners of his lips only slightly pulled upwards in a secret smile that was reserved just for Steve and the background was...A dance hall. The same one that Steve had seen in the weird little flashback/trance thing that the girl with HYDRA had put him in.

Steve ate dinner, although he didn't really taste the sandwiches he made. He cleaned his dishes, put things away, showered in boiling hot water and then got into bed before nine o'clock. Usually he didn't need much sleep, a solid five or six hours, but he had had a terrible sleep last night and then barely any the two nights before, so almost as soon as he got into bed and rested his head on his firm pillow, he fell asleep. The mattress was firm underneath him and the sheets weren't too smooth, but nowhere near as scratchy as what he used to need to put up with. He had found the perfect balance between things, and it meant he slept like a baby when he managed to quiet his mind for long enough and wasn't being interrupted by JARVIS or Maria.

It felt like it was maybe four or five hours later when Steve woke up to pressure on the mattress beside him and then on either side of him, and then blue-grey eyes staring down at his in the near dark.

"You drew me," Bucky stated in his quiet, blunt way that Steve was getting used to. The room wasn't dark because there was a light on in the adjoining bathroom, one of the dim lights, and the door was partially closed, just to let in enough light for Steve to see Bucky. He had started doing that over the past month, which Steve had been ridiculously appreciative of, and it seemed as though Bucky had liked it as much as Steve had. But right now, Steve didn't want to look at Bucky, he just wanted to touch him. Usually he was slow to begin with, making sure Bucky knew what he was doing as Steve approached him, even if he  _was_  getting better, but Steve just reached up and threw his arms around Bucky, dragging him down and holding him against his chest. " _Oof_!" Bucky grunted, but he went along with it, which Steve was  _so_  grateful for.

Steve took in deep breaths through his nose, inhaling Bucky's scent. It wasn't the same one on the surface as it was before, which made sense, since everything was different now— _Steve_  would smell different on the surface as well. But underneath...Underneath the different smell of shampoo and the very faint scent of cigarette smoke, it was Bucky.

Bucky managed to wind an arm between the mattress and Steve's neck so that it was tightly around him and Steve let out another shuddering breath at the feeling of being enveloped by his lover.

They hadn't really hugged all that much. Sometimes Steve managed to get Bucky to cuddle him for a little bit after they had come and before they went to sleep, but it was never for very long. Bucky had always been incredibly tactile, even before they had admitted their feelings for each other when they were younger, back in the '40s. He was always touching Steve's arms and hair and hands and shoulders, and once they had admitted how they had felt about each other...Things had just gotten moreso, which Steve had loved.

And now, Steve was so, so glad to have Bucky back in his life, and he would take whatever he could get, but right now, he didn't want to get off, he didn't even want to kiss Bucky, he just wanted to hold him, feel his weight against his chest and know that he was  _here_.

"Steve?" Bucky's voice was quiet against his neck, where his face was buried. "Why did you draw me?" His voice was gentler, sort of how he usually sounded when Steve was drifting off to sleep, and Bucky was whispering to him so quietly it was as though he didn't think Steve could hear.

"I always used to draw you," Steve replied, his voice a mumble, but he knew that Bucky would be able to hear him.

"But you haven't drawn me in a long time," Bucky answered almost instantly and then he drew in a sharp breath and Steve's eyes opened against Bucky's hair. It wasn't as long as it had been when Steve had first seen him after coming out of the ice, but it wasn't as short as it had been before he had gone in. Steve liked it, because neither of them were the people they were in the '40s, and Bucky was still finding who he was now, without HYDRA. Steve pulled back just a little, although only enough so that he could see Bucky's face, his nose bumping gently against Bucky's cheek. Bucky was resolutely not meeting his eyes, which was unfortunately normal.

"You admitting that you spying on me, Buck?" Steve asked lightly, and he couldn't bring himself to be anywhere near as annoyed as he had been at the beginning of the week when he had realized that Bucky must have his place bugged.

"Someone has to," Bucky grumped. "I get in here all the time without you waking up. What if it was someone who wanted to hurt you?" Steve suddenly felt a warm feeling filter through his veins and he had to close his eyes to take in a deep breath to stop himself from crashing his lips up into Bucky's. When he opened them again, Bucky was looking at him properly, and it made Steve's stomach swoop. It didn't last long, but while it did, it was enough. "Why did you draw me?" He repeated as he pulled back. Steve sat up, the covers falling down around his waist, Bucky moving to sit at the end of the bed, one leg braced on the ground, pointed toward the door.

"The mission we went on..." Steve rubbed a hand over his face, through his hair, and he knew from the way Bucky's eyes followed them and the corners of his lips shifted just a  _tiny_   _bit_ , that it was sticking in every direction. "There was a girl and she can twist memories or something. I don't know. Maria—Agent Hill—she's looking into it, but they don't know much about them. And..."

"It was me," Bucky stated and Steve nodded.

"Parts were real, parts weren't..." he shrugged a shoulder, not wanting to talk about it. Because he hadn't lost Bucky. Bucky was here, he was real, and he was with him again. Maybe not all the time, and maybe he didn't get a choice over when he saw Bucky, but at least he knew that he was alive and he was safe and he was...Finding himself. Hopefully aiming toward happy, or at least content, Steve wasn't sure, but that was what he had to tell himself.

Bucky stared at him for a long time, and Steve wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but he didn't, because he didn't want to push him. A long time stretched between them, before Bucky was standing up and walking to the door, and Steve's heart plummeted to the ground beneath the bed, thinking that Bucky was leaving.

But then he was reaching out the door and into bathroom, turning off the switch for the dim light so that the room was dark. Steve could just make out that Bucky was taking off the jacket he was wearing, and then his shoes, and then he was sitting back down on the bed.

"Lay down," Bucky said gruffly. "Roll over." Steve complied quickly, so that he was facing the thick curtains in front of his windows. Bucky didn't get under the covers, but he never did, so that didn't surprise Steve. But then he rolled his body close to Steve's knees coming up behind his and after a moment, his hand rested on Steve's hip. Steve's spine went ramrod straight, even though he was trying to relax himself, and then Bucky's hand moved, so that his arm was around Steve's waist, and he shuffled a little closer, curving his body forward, so that there were bodies were so close that Steve could feel the radiating.

Steve had always been cold and had Bucky always run hot, it had been perfect.

" _I'm_  real," Bucky's voice was quiet and rough, but the words sunk themselves through Steve's sink through his skin and tattoo themselves into his bones. Steve slowly shifted his hand out from underneath the blanket and reached for Bucky's hand. He was careful, brushing the tips of his fingers over the back of Bucky's fingers first, but Bucky didn't pull away, and when Steve slid his fingers through Bucky's, he tightened his just a little.

It wasn't the same is it had been before, Bucky wasn't kissing the back of his neck or stroking his hair. But his weight was solid and warm behind him, and that was better than before, because it was real  _now_.

It only takes seconds before Steve fell sleep.

* * *

Steve woke with a jolt, which wasn't unusual. As soon as he woke up he looks behind him, and the blankets were rumpled from where Bucky had been sleeping, but there was no Bucky. That also wasn't unusual. He was never there when he woke up.

Steve wasn't sure why he thought today would be different, but he had, and his stomach still rolled over painfully, just like it always did when he woke up and he was alone in the apartment after a night with Bucky. But even though he was alone in the bed, things had changed last night, it had just been kissing and fooling around like it had been every other time. Steve couldn't help but feel hopeful that maybe things were going to change.

Steve took in a deep breath, and that was when he let his eyes move around the room and he finally spotted a dark figure standing in the corner beside his closet, blending in with the shadows. It was Bucky, lips pursed and blue-grey eyes following following every move that Steve made. Steve's heart nearly jumped out of his chest but didn't move other than to curl his fingers into the blanket over his lap. Bucky's eyes dropped to where Steve's hands were wrinkling the blankets and his lips were doing that little thing where they were tipped upwards in the corners just a little bit but there was no change in his expression other than that.

"You stayed," he said quietly. There was quiet for a long moment. "Why?" He asked.

"You needed me to," Bucky replied, as though it was a simple as that. And maybe it was. It wasn't as though Steve had exactly asked Bucky for more. He had always been happy with whatever Bucky had been willing to give him. Things were quiet again before Steve raised an eyebrow.

"So are we going to talk about the fact you've got my apartment bugged?" Steve asked and Bucky just fixed him with a level stare, obviously not willing to have a discussion. "And the fact that you gave me a mark when you heard Sam talking to me about dating that girl he met." The slightly relaxed edges of Bucky's mouth hardened at that and Steve knew that he had hit the nail on the head. He dropped his face to the bed as he grinned, knowing that the jealous streak that Bucky had always had was still alive and well. Once Steve managed to smother his grin, he lifted his head again, and he noted that Bucky was beginning to edge toward the window. "You know you can use the door...Right?"

Bucky fixed him with another one of those blunt, level stares and Steve couldn't stop another smile. He saw the way that Bucky followed the movements with his eyes, and it made Steve's heart beat faster.

"Or you could stay for breakfast?" Steve added before really thinking it through. Bucky blinked at him and Steve almost took the offer back, not wanting to push Bucky past what he was ready for, but he didn't, he determinedly pressed his lips together, leaving the ball firmly in Bucky's court. It felt like half an hour had passed before Bucky spoke.

"You got any apple scones?" He asked and Steve's eyes widened.

"You're the one that keeps taking them?! I thought it was Sam!" Steve cried out.

Bucky's lips pulled up just a little, nearly— _so close_ —to a smile.

It was enough.

Steve beamed back.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think x


End file.
